Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
With the sun dipping lower, family and friends made their way down the stone steps to the beach, where blankets were spread upon sun-drenched sand for the younger folk.
Arranged around a large fire pit were wooden benches which had been borrowed from villagers and brought earlier by boat and by wagon.
More guests began arriving, including the deputy postmaster with his wife and brood, the vicar, fishermen, farmers, quarry workers, seaweed gatherers, and Miss Hughes’s particular friend, Henry Clark.
A happy hubbub mingled with seabirds’ cries and the children’s shouts of glee as a pod of bottlenose dolphins was spotted foraging close to the briny shore.
Darcy and Georgiana, the evening’s host and hostess, went about greeting friends and acquaintances, old and new. All the while, the gentleman kept an eye on his future wife. With pretty smile and affability, Elizabeth was quickly and universally admired by the villagers.
While he thanked several of the local fishermen for the fresh seafood they had delivered that morning, he noticed that Elizabeth and Miss Hughes were encircled by happy children, and he supposed that they were distributing sugary treats concocted by Mrs Poole at Cliff House.
The next time he looked, only the children remained, capering about at the water’s edge.
No, by George, Elizabeth and Miss Hughes are in their midst, wading barefoot in the surf.
There, ladies and gentlemen, is the future mistress of Pemberley.
As his cousin and Elizabeth’s father walked up to him, Darcy heard the colonel quietly say, “Mr Bennet, it must be gratifying to see your daughter having such a grand time with her friends. All too soon she will be saddled with a dour husband whose idea of fun is playing chess.”
“Oh, you play, do you, Darcy? Remind me, son, to beat you at it sometime.” Mr Bennet wandered off then to chat with Mr Baker.
“Stop scowling, Cousin. Your bride will act with comportment when necessary. Do not be so disapproving of her present behaviour.”
“I do not disapprove. I was merely picturing myself out there, laughing and racing into the briny while holding Mrs Darcy’s hand on one side and a dark-haired little daughter or son on the other. And I was squinting, Fitzwilliam, not scowling. Sunlight was glaring harshly on the water.”
The vicar came up to the cousins with a few questions, and Darcy tried to catch Elizabeth’s eye to introduce her to the cleric, but she strolled past, deep in conversation with Henry Clark.
As the sun touched the horizon, it cast a rosy glow across the water, similar to the painting Darcy and Elizabeth had worked on together. The soirée then began in earnest.
When the alcohol began to flow, he, in company with Fitzwilliam, sought Miss Hughes’s uncle.
“Mr Baker, I am hoping I may count on your assistance tonight.” Receiving a positive response, Darcy continued.
“I shall not abide drunkenness while ladies and children are present. My senior footman is the only one allowed to dispense the wine, ale, cider, and such. However, I suspect some of the parishioners may have brought their own spirits. If either of you notice anyone becoming foxed, I entrust you to intervene and deal with the situation. They know and respect you, Mr Baker, and the colonel is accustomed to dealing with such trouble.” Both men nodded in agreement, and they began mingling and walking about, patrolling the beach.
Someone lit the bonfire, which was the cue for the village fiddler and piper to strike up a lively tune.
From the kitchen, plates heaped with crab, steamed mussels, fried plaice, and raw oysters were passed round.
Tables held an assortment of local cheese, meat, bread, pies, and such.
A cluster of children waited in front of Molly, the chambermaid, for what would probably be their first taste of chocolate.
People not eating or drinking began to dance. Lanterns with candles burnt brightly on every second stone step and at intervals along the beach.
As he walked about, Darcy encountered Miss Baker chatting with Mrs Bennet. “…and she was much distracted by jealousy and not at all by love. I shudder to imagine what a spoilsport Miss Wright would have been were she here this evening.”
“Begging your pardon, ladies. Mrs Bennet, might you know where I could find your second eldest?”
“Lizzy? What do you want with her, Mr Darcy? If you want to dance, you had much better ask Lydia, for the musicians are playing a reel, and she is the liveliest of all my girls.” The tune ended, but the fiddler began another.
“Lydia is so popular. There she is, standing up with young Mr Hughes now. He is to be the master of Greenlea one day, you know. What a fine match he would be for her, and I would have my Lydia residing close to Longbourn.”
Miss Baker pointed in the fire’s direction. “Miss Bennet is over there, Mr Darcy, dancing the Strathspey with someone. Oh, ’tis that charming cousin of yours.”
He bowed to the women, then strode off towards the dancers.
The Bingleys were with them, and the two couples seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely.
While glaring at his cousin, Darcy accepted a plate of raw oysters and steamed mussels and tucked into them until someone smelling of rosewater stepped up beside him.
“I do not know how anyone can eat raw oysters, sir.” Miss Hughes shuddered. “What if you swallow a pearl?”
He told her that oysters were an acquired taste and that such a pearl would be a small and dull one. Putting his plate upon a table, he felt obliged to ask her to stand up with him.
“I appreciate the offer, but I do not feel that I should dance just yet, although my brother is currently doing so. Come September, you may ask me again.” She remained silent for a few moments, tapping her foot to the music.
“It was terribly kind of you to arrange for Jasper to travel here and remain at Cliff House for a fortnight. And I must thank you for something else. Miss Bennet mentioned that you considered arranging a trip to Bath for a party of us. That was big-hearted of you, sir. However, an acquaintance of my aunt and uncle already expressed a desire to take us to Bath next month.”
“Yes, Miss Bennet mentioned as much to me.” They silently watched the dancers awhile.
“Mr Clark certainly seems to be a young gentleman worth knowing.” Miss Hughes smiled, and, for the first time, Darcy noticed the delightful little dimple on the girl’s cheek.
“The world is your oyster, Miss Hughes, and I wish you nothing but good fortune and happiness.”
Shouting and laughing, the postmaster’s children joined the fun, and Darcy had to raise his voice to be heard.
“As for a dance in September, I must go to my estate in Derbyshire for the harvest, and I do not know when I might be back in Wyman’s Cove again, if ever.
Strandsmere will soon be put on the market, but it is doubtful that I shall find a buyer. ”
The music stopped, and to Darcy’s delight, Elizabeth came to him. The colonel, however, had slunk off into the night. “Miss Bennet, I trust you are enjoying yourself this evening.”
“Immensely, sir. And you?”
“I would enjoy it more if I could spend all my time with you.” He glanced to his left, but Miss Hughes was walking away with her brother and Miss Lydia.
The musicians began another tune. “Three times in Hertfordshire I asked you to stand up with me. Twice at Netherfield, where you declined once and accepted once. The other time was at Lucas Lodge when it was Sir William’s idea, but you refused me. Please, dance with me now.”
She did, and when it was over, Darcy saw that Miss Hughes had returned and was eyeing, with disgust, a lone oyster upon her plate.
“I cannot do it, sir.” She passed the plate to him.
“And I have just made an observation that I must share. The two of you, looking so joyful, remind me of my parents when they danced together. When you are settled in conjugal felicity, I hope you will always be as happy as you are now.” Her dimple made another appearance at Mr Clark’s approach.
Darcy let the oyster slide down his throat while the bonfire crackled, and sparkling red bursts rose into the sky. Surreptitiously he took from his pocket a few mint leaves and chewed them. “Will you walk with me, Elizabeth?”
As they left the fire behind, he fetched a lantern, then entwined her arm with his.
“You were never far from my thoughts, and most of all my regrets, since I left Hertfordshire. In retrospect, I should have asked you to marry me while we were at Netherfield. I presume you would not have accepted me then, but we could have talked. And debated.” He gently squeezed her bare fingers.
“And I, on my best behaviour, would have done everything in my power to persuade you to change your mind. We could have been married for almost nine months by now. Nine wasted months. Time enough to be expecting a child.” He looked around.
No one was watching, so he raised her hand to his lips for a quick kiss. “Am I making you blush, dear heart?”
“You will never know. ’Tis too dark. Are you not going to light that strange lantern?”
“Not just yet. To continue, I watched you earlier, encircled by adoring cottagers’ children.
When I was the age of those boys and girls, my parents provided me with anything my heart desired, so I suppose that was their way of showing affection.
” He indicated a driftwood log higher up on the pebbly foreshore. “Shall we sit, for just a moment?”
“I was hoping we might have time to see the waterfall.”